Chapter 5, In which I am not a slut

I was feeling tired and hung over, the result of a sleepless night with a lot of drinking and even more sex. I couldn’t exactly bring myself to regret any of it, but it was disconcerting to realize I’d slept with more people in the last 12 hours than in all of my life prior to that point.

A smile crossed my face as I thought about Jenny, the last of those partners, and then disappeared as I pondered the situation in which I found myself. I’d bewitched Jenny — binding her affections to me with a bit of magic I’d learned from my girlfriend, Stacey.

Objectively, it was wrong to have done it, but I hadn’t precisely intended her to be a sexual partner when I’d started. Having seen, up close, how much Jenny enjoyed being with me, I couldn’t regret it, but the thought that she’d lost her job because of me burned in my stomach — and it wasn’t the good kind of burn we’d shared that morning. It had only been a waitressing job, but she’d depended on it and now it was gone because of something I’d done. I felt really bad about it.

I felt even worse about cheating on Stacey. She was my first lesbian experience, my dearest love, and I was sleeping around on her before we’d even known each other a month. It wasn’t just the physical sex — we’d never said we were exclusive, and she knew I let Michael fuck me. I wasn’t a slut or anything. It was the emotional betrayal.

We were so compatible — she loved to have me worship her beautiful pussy as much as I loved to be there between her legs — that I’d never imagined it could be any better. But, somehow, with Jenny, it was. Maybe it was that we liked all the same things: eating out girls, doing anal, group sex. Maybe it was being able both to give and to receive. Whatever the case, I knew Jenny wasn’t going to be just a one-night stand.

I thought again about calling Stacey, but she rarely rose before lunchtime and I still didn’t know what I’d tell her. Instead, I checked the time and took a last look at myself in the rear view mirror. My makeup looked nice and professional, and I applied a last touchup with the glossy red lipstick where I’d been chewing my lip while I’d been thinking.

Climbing out of the rental car, I mentally crossed my fingers for luck and strode towards the lobby, trying to exude calm confidence. If all went well, I was about to make my employer — and myself — a ton of money. All it took was to a signed agreement to go with the verbal acceptance I’d gotten earlier that morning.

I’d been in this position before, and gotten screwed — figuratively rather than literally. This time, I had two things going for me. First, instead of dealing with my usual contact, Hunter, I’d been negotiating with Hunter’s boss, Big Bill. Second, I’d used Stacey’s magic on Big Bill. It hadn’t worked out quite the way it had with Jenny, but I was confident I could convince him to honor his commitment.

Big Bill had a nicer office than Hunter did, up a floor and definitely in executive territory. He had a better-looking secretary, too, although with Stacey on one shoulder and Jenny on the other, I didn’t spare her a second glace as she walked me in.

“Good morning, Bill,” I cheerily greeted him, crossing the office to shake his hand. I looked inquiringly at the stranger already seated in another of the guest chairs by the desk.

“Mornin’, Linnea. You are a sight for sore eyes,” Big Bill said, raking my body head to toe with a quick look. “Tom, this is Linnea Richwell, the hottest sales executive in Texas. Linnea, meet Tom; he’s our Finance VP.”

“Don’t believe a word this man says,” I laughed to Tom, shaking his hand. I knew I looked hot, but I preferred to let my wardrobe speak for itself. Just the same, I made sure he could see down my blouse when I bent over to set down my attache. “Now, are we ready to do business?”

“Well, I was bringing Tom up to speed on our ‘negotiations’ last night,” Big Bill started off.

I sensed prevarication and started thinking hard about him just signing the damn paperwork, but like last night — and unlike Jenny — he seemed stubbornly resistant to my suggestions.

“…and it seemed the financial aspects were not quite clear,” Bill concluded.

“Now, Bill, that’s just silly,” I said, smiling to take the sting out of my words. I pushed my blouse off the attache so I could retrieve two copies of the agreement. “What in this could you possibly object to?” I asked, handing each of them one of the copies.

“Nothing,” Tom breathed, without even looking at the paperwork. “I owe you an apology, Big Bill. Hunter never left the slightest impression she was such a slut.”

“I am not a slut!” I objected, feeling offended.

Big Bill chortled. “You were acting like a slut last night, little lady! Can you honestly tell me you aren’t soaking your panties right now thinking of this?” He stroked the bulge in his trousers suggestively.

“I am sorry you have to listen to this, Tom,” I apologized. It took a long moment remove my pencil skirt and show them I wasn’t wearing any underwear. “No soaked panties,” I emphasized. “And before you ask, this” — I collected a few dewdrops with a finger — “is on account of my girlfriend, not you.” I blushed, realizing I’d just called Jenny my girlfriend.

“Leave her out of this!” I yelped, reading the inquisitive look in Big Bill’s expression. I felt like I was losing control again, and tried to calm myself. “Look, I didn’t mean to snap at you, but can we just focus on business? We’re all professionals here.”

Both men looked at each other and chuckled. “She didn’t charge me a cent; nice dinner, too,” Bill grinned at Tom.

I was going to object to his tone, but Bill gave me another one of those sweep-a-girl-off-her-feet kisses that left me panting and fumbling with the fly of his slacks.

“Jaysus,” Tom exclaimed in disgust. “What kind of woman would whore herself out like this just to make a sale? Are you on drugs?”

“I beg your pardon!” I turned around, infuriated with his insulting and sexist insinuations. “I am not on drugs, I am not drunk, and I am no whore! You have no right to say those things about me!”

Tom looked at me dubiously, and I stopped fingering my dripping pussy. “You aren’t doing this just to make a sale? Or because we’re pressuring you?”

“No!” I snapped. “I’m doing — it — because — I fucking — want to!” There was a brief silence while I pondered my words and Big Bill breathed heavily. They didn’t sound like me, but there was no denying my body was longing for a return encounter with Big Bill’s hulking manhood. I decided he was just a bad influence.

The men grinned at each other, and Tom switched off a recorder I belatedly noticed he was holding in one hand. He pressed a few buttons and we listened to, “…because — I fucking — want to!” echo faintly from its small speaker.

“That’s low, Big Bill,” I told him. “Ask Hunter, or anybody; I’m always professional and I’d never stoop to anything as low as blackmail.” I felt a bit guilty about trying to magic him, but it clearly hadn’t worked so there was no reason to mention it. “Just for thinking that, I’m gonna leave you hanging while I take care of Tom.” I released his dripping cock from where I’d imprisoned it between my breasts and left him to clean himself up; most of his load was running down my neck and chest, anyway.

“You aren’t going anywhere without cleaning up first,” he replied, and pulled my face into his manhood. “Try her ass, Tom,” Bill recommended, earning a grateful look from me. “You’ve never seen anything like it.”

We passed an enjoyable 30 minutes or so breaking down my proposal. Luckily for me, both Tom and Bill seemed quite conversant with it, because I rarely found myself in a position to speak. Intelligibly, anyway.

“Whattaya think?” Bill finally asked Tom. I lay on the floor, too fucked out to move; on top of the all-nighter, my body just had no stamina left.

Tom carefully jacked a final drop of semen out of his cock, just missing my eye, and tucked himself away. “Well, it’s pretty close; I’d guess maybe one percent above Len’s numbers. The renewal might come down a bit, but that’s awful far in the future. We could go either way.”

“About what I figured,” Bill said, picking a copy of the proposal off his desk. “I think we’ll give this a go,” he mused, sending a sudden burst of energy through me. “We had to buy off one of Len’s girls, and that’s just pure annoyance. I feel better about Linnea, y’know? Besides,” he smiled down at me, “I promised — and it’s not nice to disappoint a lady.”

I just about levitated off the floor as he countersigned both copies and handed one to me. “Oh, thank you!” I squealed, giving them both quick hugs and pecks on the cheek. I knew it was a trifle unprofessional, but I just couldn’t help myself.

“You’ll come back to see how things are going, right?” Big Bill asked while I carefully filed my copy in the attache.

“Absolutely,” I promised. “Thank you again, gentlemen. We truly appreciate your business!”

“Ah, clothes?” Tom prodded as I prepared to march out the door.

My blouse and skirt were still draped over one of the chairs. “Shit!” I yelped, realizing I was standing there in front of them naked. “I’m sorry, you must think I’m such slut,” I apologized while scampering back to put them on.

“Not at all,” Big Bill assured me, wearing a Texas-sized smile. I caught Tom making circular gestures with his fingers beside his head when he thought I couldn’t see him, but I felt so good I just couldn’t hold it against him.

“Good catch,” I whispered to Tom as I exited triumphantly to start the next part of a very good day.

I drove back to the hotel and flopped on my freshly-made bed. My calendar was open until mid-afternoon and I was tired. It was tempting to just close my eyes, but I knew I couldn’t put off calling Stacey any longer.

“I’ve missed you so much!” I cried when she answered; just hearing the sound of her voice made me wet. “Can I come home yet?”

“Poor Linnea, I’ve missed you too,” she crooned. “How did your dinner go? I was starting to get worried.”

“It was okay,” I prevaricated. “I got the deal.” It felt like she was right there next to me, and I dreaded what I was going to have to tell her.

“Just okay? That should be fantastic!” she said, finally letting a little emotion into her voice. “What’s wrong, Linnea? You can tell me.”

“I… I cheated on you,” I admitted, feeling like a child caught stealing from a cookie jar.

“Oh, Baby, I forgive you,” Stacey said. “We always knew you might have to screw that Hunter to make him see things the right way.”

Her understanding cut me to the bone; I felt like such a traitor. “No, I fucked lots of them, all night! I don’t even remember how many. I couldn’t help myself, Stacey! Oh God, I’m such a slut!” I wailed.

“What?” she exclaimed. “What did you do wrong?”

“Nothing,” I insisted, sniffing back tears. I just hated upsetting or disappointing her. “I did everything just like you told me. I know it worked…” I hesitated, unable to mention Jenny when Stacey already was so upset.

Luckily, Stacey was already talking again. “It’s okay, Linnea; don’t cry. Just tell me what you did, alright? You got a hair from Hunter?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, trying to focus on my hazy memories and stay calm. “I took it to the bathroom and ate it, but it didn’t work because I forgot to wipe it with the lip gloss first.”

Stacey’s exasperation was obvious. “Linnea!”

“I know,” I apologized. “So I put on the gloss and then ran into Big Bill–“

“Who?”

“Big Bill. He’s Hunter’s boss, so it was a good thing, actually. So, I got a hair from him, too, and–“

“You’re sure it was from him, right?” she interrupted.

“Stacey!” I hissed, feeling a little annoyed. “I’m not stupid. I picked one of his pubic hairs while I was blowing him and swallowed it.”

“Ewww, that’s gross, Linnea. I can’t believe you did that!”

“It wasn’t like I had a choice! I told you these guys were sexist pigs. He practically raped me right outside the bathroom! And let me tell you, there’s a reason they call him Big Bill.”

“Too much information! Anyway, it sounds like it should have worked.”

“Well,” I said hesitantly, “I was concerned that too much of the lip gloss might have gotten wiped off when we were kissing, so after he got off, I licked as much as I could off his face just to be safe.”

“Linnea,” she asked dangerously, “where did he orgasm?”

I replied meekly, feeling she thought I’d made a mistake somewhere, although I didn’t see where. “In my mouth, mostly.”

“Mostly,” she sighed. “So you kissed, right after you put on the gloss, and then you blew him until he came in your mouth, and then you kissed again. Is there any chance he might have gotten any semen and one of your hairs in his mouth while you two were sucking each other’s faces?”

“I don’t know; maybe. I was distracted!” I cast about for something more positive to say. “But I fixed it later — I threw a hair in the candle on the table!”

Stacey’s voice was dangerous, confusing me. “Where did you get the idea to do that?”

“Didn’t you tell me about it?” I asked, unsure myself. “Anyway, I picked it off my face and I know it worked because when he fucked me right afterwards, he put it straight into my ass! You know how much I like that.”

“What are you doing now?”

“Lying on the bed, talking to you,” I said, without understanding what she was driving at.

“Where are your hands?”

“Oh!” I pulled my fingers out of my dripping slit. “I was masturbating and didn’t even realize it,” I sheepishly confessed. It was pretty hot to think about. As the silence lengthened, I wondered if I really was a slut, after all.

Stacey sighed. “I think those hairs probably were yours, Linnea. And they fucked you for how long?”

“All night,” I said dreamily, my fingers returning to my dew-beaded nubbin. “I didn’t sleep at all. And then again at the office before we signed the agreement. Big Bill is such an animal!“

“Stop it!” Stacey shouted at me, making me jump. “You’re not a slut, Linnea — yet. It’s only been less than a day. You can fight it! You love me, right?”

“You know I do! I’d do anything for you, Stacey; you know I would.” It was all confusing, because she seemed to be implying they’d forced me to do things, and that hadn’t been true at all except maybe for that first time with Big Bill.

“Okay, listen. I need you to not have sex, or masturbate, until you get home. It’s important.” I guiltily withdrew my fingers and wiped them on the bedspread instead of licking them clean. “If your mind turns to sex, think about something else instead. And put on some underwear.”

I got up and dug a pair of lace-waist hip huggers out of my suitcase, and then pulled them on while I listened to Stacey mutter to herself.

“You don’t know where you can get a chastity belt, do you?” she asked — I was pretty sure she was joking.

I realized I’d been rubbing myself through the thin fabric, and hurriedly brushed my skirt back into place. “No, there’s nothing like that around here,” I replied, smiling. That would really put a crimp in Big Bill’s lifestyle!

“Well, look,” Stacey said, and then paused. She obviously was thinking hard.

I looked in the mirror and realized I’d buttoned my blouse crookedly. Underneath, Big Bill’s semen had dried but was still just as tasty. Flaking it off my nipple was more than a little arousing, but I managed to remember Stacey’s instructions and buttoned up again.

“Okay, I need you to find a tattoo parlor,” Stacey asked, surprising me. “Tell them you want to get a small ring in the hood of your clit.”

“Stacey!” I shouted, both shocked and scandalized. “That’s… evil,” I finished weakly, for want of a better word.

“It’s necessary,” she said soothingly. “Think of it like a wedding ring. This’ll sneak up on you, Linnea; it’s how it works. The ring will be a reminder of our love and dedication. Whenever you forget and try to slide a finger, or a penis” — I could hear her shudder — “you’ll remember.”

I realized there was a difference between wanting to do anything for the person I loved, and having a specific “anything” staring me in the face. “It’ll hurt,” I whined, mostly out of reflex. On the other hand, I could see the logic of what she was saying, sort of, and it felt a bit like penance for being unfaithful.

“For me?” asked Stacey, using the tone of voice she knew made me drip.

“Yes,” I finally agreed, and knew I’d made the right decision when I felt the warm inner glow that came from pleasing her.

“I’ll be thinking of you,” she crooned. “Let me know as soon as it’s done — and the sooner, the better. I love you, Linnea.”

How the hell was I going to find a tattoo parlor?

---